I own nothing.

"Now open wide."

Alaric glared down at the crystal vial that held a sludge of molten gold that might have been a valuable treasure but appeared far too sludgy to be consumed by any sane human. He then moved his eyes up to his grandmother and gave her a look full of grievance that would have made her sigh in pity had circumstances been different.

Unfortunately, he had long discovered that his grandmother could not be manipulated by cute looks and puppy eyes so quickly. He knew all too well that despite her grandmotherly appearance, Elenor had the heart of a vixen and was not above using dirty tricks to get what she wanted.

"Come on, Alaric," She urged once again, moving closer even as he glared back at her in a final bid to resist her, "These tears are good for your eyes, you'd be in glasses without them."

Instead of answering, he just crossed his arms before him and levelled his best glare at her and when it became apparent that he would not budge, she changed tactics and tried using his tricks on him instead as her features softened and her eyes turned amazingly gentle.

His grandmother was perhaps the only one who had the audacity to coo at him at that moment "Oh, don't you look so cute when you brood Alaric?"

"I don't brood—" A vial was shoved into his mouth as soon as he opened his mouth to tell Elenor his true thoughts, quickly depositing its content before he had the time to so much as breathe.

"There, now that was not so bad, was it?" Elenor carefully placed the vial down on the counter before wiping the edges of his mouth with a pink napkin she had just conjured, "For someone who acts so smart all the time, you only show your true age at moments like this."

It had almost been four years since her grandson had all but demanded that he be taught magic at a younger age, and he had taken to learning magic from his mother like a fish to water. Elenor could not help but be proud of her grandson's enthusiasm and dedication.

She had taught many children before but it was the first time she genuinely struggled to keep the lessons interesting enough for Alaric without going completely over his head by delving too deep into the subject, a task that had been growing increasingly harder as her grandson had taken to reading almost every book that they owned on magic as soon as he had been allowed to make use of the Family Library.

She had long lost count of the number of times she had seen her grandson asleep with a large book draped over his chest or practicing wand movements with a stick in the backyard, that too at an age when other kids were busy playing Quidditch or learning basic mathematics. It had even reached the point where Elenor had to order Alaric to go play Quidditch one day with his grandfather.

A chance that his father would have jumped at, all things considered. It only drove in the fact that the two were poles apart even though Alaric shared his father's slender physique and his raven black hair.

They both were unique in their own wonderful ways even when it came to style and habits, her son had gone to great lengths to tame his unruly hair through extensive use of ever-holding gel and usually plastered it back in a traditional pureblood whereas her grandson seemed to enjoy embracing the unruly hairstyle that all Peverells naturally had.

Even so, Elenor could not help the occasional pang of melancholy at the sight of her grandson's mischievous grin which so closely resembled his father's. Alaric resembled his father even if he had inherited his grandfather's aristocratic features and her bright amethyst eyes.

"Now remember, I would allow you to pick three books this time since you've drunk your potions properly but you cannot no more than that. God knows your father would not have to wear those awful spectacles if he had done the same," Elenor shook her head, removing the nostalgic thoughts that occasionally haunted her before fondly glancing at her grandson and shooing him away, "Run along now, I have work to do and I'm sure you want to get back to those books of yours."

Alaric gave his grandmother a curious look, unable to recognize the thousand emotions that flashed through her eyes at that moment but he was smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself as he turned and ran away. His grandmother had forced him to drink a whole batch of those foul potions the last time he had talked back to her.

But he could get back to work now that he was finally free from her clutches. Turning around a corner he sprinted down the long corridors of his manor, ignoring the moving portraits who always made sure to send cheerful waves his way as he passed them by.

Sentient pictures had been a bit weird to accept at first but he had grown used to them eventually, and now it was more of an annoyance than anything.

Turning two more corners and sprinting down as many halls, he skidded to a stop as he reached his destination and found himself standing before a pair of huge ebony doors. One of the house elves passing by held the door open at his approach, bowing almost reverently as she granted him entrance to the vast hall behind.

Giving her a quick nod of thanks, Alaric quickly entered the hall even as the house elf swiftly shut the door behind him. Quickly walking up to the fence before him, he paused and took a moment to take everything in and properly appreciate the hall before him.

He was standing next to the railing of the second-floor landing. The magical candles that hung off the decorated roof brightened the place despite its lack of windows and revealed row upon row of wooden shelves below him, each stacked to the brim with unknown tomes and books.

It was the Peverell Family Library, and it was perhaps the most wonderful place in this manor he had discovered.

It has tomes so old that they were written from the time before the founding of Hogwarts and spanned every range of topics imaginable, from magical theory to ancient runes. Most wonderful were the books that held information about every magical creature and enchantment that the Peverells had ever encountered in history.

Many of these magics were useless to them as a whole since they either lacked the prerequisites to use them or clashed with Peverell family magic, but they were recorded here by his ancestors nonetheless.

Knowledge, as Alaric was often told, was power and every Peverell head had enshrined their achievements and discoveries here because of it— a tradition that Alaric was determined to keep.

For all his progress, Alaric doubted that his grandparents would have allowed him in here had he been an ordinary kid. He had not known the place even existed a few months ago and he was only allowed to enter because he had mastered rudimentary education and had the entire batch of books that had been given to him by his grandmother.

For the last few months, he had been spending every waking moment he could in here. He might have even stayed here from after dawn to dusk every single day without leaving had it not been for his grandmother growing concerned and throwing him outside because of it.

She had even invited a few of her friends and asked them to bring their grandchildren along, probably in a bid to introduce him to other kids his age and get him interested in whatever activity magical kids his age partook in.

Which had been a boring experience even if he had made a few acquaintances that way. He could not really think of them as his friends, especially when the only intellectual conversation they had involved the other party picking their noses and rubbing the boogers all over him.

The fact that he was so blatantly beyond them all had made it even harder for them to truly connect with him at that time. Not that it was anything to brag about.

Small wizards in training or not, they were just kids at the end of the day. Most of them could not even kick a ball properly, let alone cast spells and that previous awkwardness had only made it harder to bridge that gap now that they had all somewhat grown and matured.

It was customary for all noble houses to begin educating their heirs at the tender age of seven. Saying it was proper education was a bit of a stretch though, as most of the magical exercises were hidden games that could have made Alaric think of magical classes by looking at it.

Enchanted hobblesnatch? Replace the sword and it turned into wand movement training. Quidditch? With a bit of helpful a couple of minor tweaks to the broom, it became a magical control exercise.

He would not have thought that there was anything strange about all the games adults encouraged them to play had he not been studying magic previously. Other kids were not more informed either since it was deemed too detrimental in the long run for young kids to use any strenuous magic before the age of eleven.

Only his grandparents seemed to have made an exception when it came to him.

And that was why he spent most of his time here. His magic might have been far too undeveloped to properly train, but he could not break his grandparent's trust by allowing himself to fall into the pitfalls of mediocracy once again in this life.

So he patiently learned, slowly growing stronger as he did so.

Thanks for reading